


Shuttered Eyes are not Blind

by VerdantMoth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Court Sorcerer Merlin, Known magic, M/M, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-08-23 04:14:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16611740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: Merlin whips his head towards the sound and it’s like someone has punched lead straight into his belly.“Mordred?”Icy blue eyes catch his, before the younger male slips into the dancing mass. “You have this habit, Emrys, of ignoring things you do not wish to confront.”





	Shuttered Eyes are not Blind

Merlin hovers, as he had for the last few years, at the edge of the crowd, just watching the way the couples sway and spin beneath the bright lights. He absently taps his fingers to the beat, eyes tracking the pairings, especially the king and queen.

Court Sorcerer is a lonely position, sometimes. Always on the outskirts of the gatherings watching and sensing for any mal-intent. He catches Arthur’s gaze and nods a little distractedly. He knows Arthur wants him to join the crowd, to take a moment for himself and just enjoy the festivities, embrace the spirit of peace and prosperity, but he can’t.

There is someone watching. There has been for a while now. Nothing malicious that Merlin can taste on the air, but hovering and looming and always in his space.

“I see you.” The sound licks at his ear and Merlin shivers. For once, he is grateful for the overwhelming robes Arthur insist he wears, because his body betrays him. “Unnatural,” Gwaine would say teasingly, “to be so excited by a voice in your head.”

“You’re not in my head though, are you?” Merlin mutters it out loud, though no one is near him.

The voice laughs and when Merlin shivers, he can only hope people attribute it to the cold of the season.

“Why don’t you come out and play?” He doesn’t feel silly muttering beside a bowl of fruit, not even a little. The voice laughs again and Merlin scowls, unaware of the noble daughter he is frightening.

“Are you ready for me?”

Merlin cocks his head to the side, pondering. “Perhaps. I suppose we won’t really know until you show up.”

The voice sighs, and it’s like ice down Merlin’s spine. “Sometimes, Emrys, I wonder about you.”

“Why?”

“Because you really can’t figure out who I am.” The voice comes half from his mind and half from the cluster of people meandering past Merlin.

Merlin whips his head towards the sound and it’s like someone has punched lead straight into his belly.

“Mordred?”

Icy blue eyes catch his, before the younger male slips into the dancing mass. “You have this habit, Emrys, of ignoring things you do not wish to confront.”

Merlin struggles to follow the tar-colored curls. “Why-,” he pushes his way between couples unbothered by indignant huffs and dirty glares, until he can grab the broad shoulders of the shorter knight. “Explain.”

Mordred offers him a half smile, one that doesn’t dispel the sorrow in his eyes. He lifts a hand to Merlin’s neck, thumb just under his chin and presses. “I see you, Merlin.”

It is the first time he’s ever heard the boy say his natural name and he suddenly needs to know how it taste on Mordred’s tongue. Instead, he asks “what does that mean?”

Mordred doesn’t answer. He steps closer and places his other hand on Merlin’s shoulder, aligning them so that they are face to face, with only a breath between their chests.

Merlin knows, somewhat absently, that they are making a scene, that people are gathered around them watching the king’s most trusted sorcerers face off. “Emrys, do you see me?”

He doesn’t like the way it feels, the Druid’s label for him falling out of Mordred’s lips so bitter and sad.

“You’re in my face. I can’t help but to see you.”

It is not the right answer. Mordred shutters his face and steps away, hands leaving brands on Merlin’s neck. He goes to vanish, in that way he does, but Merlin throws his hands out and screams “NO!”

Around them, everyone freezes, and Merlin knows he should set them free, but he can’t worry about them right now. Mordred turns slowly, brows raised. “I have no time for your games, Emrys.”

Merlin snarls, some animal in his chest straining to break free. “Say my name Mordred.”

“Emrys.”

Merlin pulls his hands back, but Mordred throws his own arms out. Wind roars around them, rustling dresses and hair and spilling drinks.

For a long time they stay that way, Merlin trying to pull Mordred towards him and Mordred grounding himself with his magic. Merlin caves first, stomping forward. Mordred does not retreat. Merlin gets two hands in his tunic, and he can taste the faintest bit of ale as Mordred breaths. “Say my name.”

“Not until you see me.”

Mordred lifts a hand, warm fingers tracing his temple. Suddenly, Merlin’s mind explodes with images and memories. Battles where his focus was so narrowed on an enemy, he can’t feel the warmth at his back lending him magic where his own falters. Nights spent like this one, watching a crowd alone. Only, he really wasn’t alone. Some shadow always at his side, ready with food or drink or a hand to still his shaking.

Nights he never knew of the fingers that combed sweat from his brow as he tried to stop hearts from stopping.

Mordred steps back, letting things speed through Merlin’s mind too fast to really comprehend, but enough so that he knows that since Mordred arrived, he has always stood at Merlin’s side. His knees buckle, but Mordred catches him, a steadying presence.

“But why?”

Mordred shows his frustration as he tosses hands out. “I told you Merlin, I-“

Merlin doesn’t let him finish. He chases the way his name sounds with his tongue, trying to find what Mordred feels when he says it. Confidence and softness and something… Merlin has no words for what he finds against the edges of Mordred’s teeth, in the scrape of his tongue, but he wants more.

Mordred laughs against his lips and tangles his fingers in Merlin’s thick locks. “We should-“

Merlin doesn’t want to hear about what they should do, because he’s had enough of being told what needs to be done. He tries to express this in the way he tugs at Mordred’s lips.

“Merlin, we need to unfreeze Camelot.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, even as they flash gold, before he whisks them away, conveniently freeing them of their clothing along the way. (He’ll apologize to whoever ended up under them later.) He can feel the king's amusement and it rankles him to know that Arthur was right.

\---

Later, lying next to each other, cool despite the sweat on their skin and the heat under the furs, Merlin traces the bridge of Mordred’s nose. Mordred nips at it, tired and sated.

“I see you, Mordred.”

Blue eyes meet blue eyes, laughter sparking between them. “How can you not, as I am splayed beneath you?”

Merlin scowls, but leans down to kiss him, rolling his hips lazily. “I did not before, because I was afraid of you. Because of what you could be, what you are, I sometimes blindfold myself against you.”

Mordred’s breathe catches, and Merlin knows it’s only half because he hardens his rolls. “I do not wish to unsee you, Mordred. But I am afraid.” Afraid of destiny and duty and kingdoms and dragons.

Mordred smiles soft and grips Merlin’s hips with his bruising fingers. “I will always see you Merlin, and I will always guide you back to me, even when your eyes go dark.”

The promise is sealed between sharp teeth and thrusting hips. It taste like ale and sweat and musk, and just faintly of rivers and cedar. If Merlin focuses, he can taste lust and hope and something warmer too.

 


End file.
